


Color Rush

by CerebralThunder



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Color Rush AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, POV GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Slow Burn, george goes to florida, idiot being used as a term of endearment, not beta read but that's fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerebralThunder/pseuds/CerebralThunder
Summary: AU based off the web novel/drama Color Rush by Se SangGeorge lives in greyscale. Dream has the rainbow in the palm of his hand.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

_ He hadn’t seen it. _

It was the high pitched hiss that made its presence known. George screamed, and tragically, was blown into oblivion. The monitor flashed and ‘You died!’ taunted the Brit, and all he could do was suck in a low breath, attempting to simmer himself down before he completely rage quit. He had so many levels. So much stuff on him, and hearing Dream and Sapnap cackling like maniacs in his ear was making his eye twitch. His furious gaze lifted to his chat who were all trying their best to make him feel better. He appreciated their efforts, but he was  _ pissed _ . The creeper had blended right in with the cobblestone, there was no time to even react because he ran directly into it.

“Oh my god, George!” Dreams wheezing has George pouting, finally respawning on the surface with an aggressive click of his mouse. He was so far away from them now. “Where did you die? I’ll grab your stuff.”

Sapnap who had fallen into quiet giggles spoke up. “Nah, dude! His shit is gone, there’s only a few stacks of dirt and an iron pick left behind.” the other was surveying the damage the damn creature had left behind. George moans woefully and lets his body sag forward, lightly bopping his forehead off his desk. He stays like that for some time, letting his friends chat about his mistake for a solid minute.

Finally, he straightens back up, and he smiles at the camera. Though it didn’t quite reach his glossy eyes. He was fooling no one, his chat was far too observant. 

It doesn’t stop him from pretending that he’s not completely frustrated, “It’s alright, I actually have to end the stream anyways, it was good timing.” George’s head cocks to the side, waving at his camera, “Bye guys! Thanks for hanging out today!” 

“Wait George, don’t go!” Dream argues, but the smaller male is shaking his head, removing his headphones so he doesn’t have to hear his friends while he quickly reads out the couple of donations he hadn’t gotten to. When he’s finished, he finally ends the stream, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Lifting his gaze to the ceiling, he stares into the white void. 

Playing this damn game was too much for him sometimes, especially if his eyes were tired. It was hard enough, but adding on the fact he couldn’t see the game as well as other people made it all the more annoying. 

His vision was entirely in greyscale, had been this way since he was born. George was a Mono.

He was a Mono without a Probe. 

George had been told that meeting a Probe was a one in a million chance, and to accept that this was who he was without one. Accept that he may never be able to see the world as others do. Most Mono’s never did and those who got the chance to meet theirs-- well it was hit or miss. A Probe is the key to unlocking all the color. They say you’re soulmates, but George had never wanted to meet his. 

Not after seeing how obsessed a Mono could get to them. It was dangerous and addictive.

Everyone reminded him how  _ lucky _ he was to even be able to see at all, and the fact that he could see the world differently was some sort of blessing. He never understood those people. Nothing about this felt like a blessing. He couldn’t even play a silly game with his friends properly. He was never one to comment on how he felt left out when they would talk about how cool a new block looked. He would just smile as people said they loved the color of his shirt that day. Once someone told him that his hoodie was the same shade as Dream’s Minecraft skin.

To George, Dream was just a big smiley face, the green everyone spoke of often got lost and he’d end up focusing on that smile instead. It was always so clear to him. A beacon against all the other textures and blocks. Dream was easy to see.

“Hey, George?” The sound is muffled, the headphones still around his neck.

“He’s still in the VC. I got this, I got this. Ready…” A whispering moment of silence before, “GEORGE PUT YOUR DAMN HEADPHONES BACK ON!” Sapnap’s voice drags his hands off his lap and he secures them back into place, the dent in his hair cradling it perfectly.

“I’m here.”

There’s a long pause, “Why’d you end your stream early?” Dream asks, his voice raspy from how hard he was laughing not long ago. There was a touch of guilt now, “What’s up?

“I’m tired.” He shrugs his shoulders, though neither of them can see him now that he had ended his Twitch stream. Both of them were notorious watchers.

“You’re tired? That’s all?” Dream presses, “You’ve been acting kinda strange the last few hours. Are you sure something’s isn’t up? You can tell us George. Did we like say something to upset you or?” Sapnap intervened, and George took this as an opportunity to shift, laying his head down in his arms, eyes slipping closed.

“Dream, if he doesn’t want to tell us don’t push him, you know you’ll just piss him off.” Sapnap was right. His temper was nearly at its boiling point, a little more pressure and he’d be pushed over the damn edge. That wasn’t what he wanted, getting mad at them wasn’t going to help his situation. “George, get some rest man, alright? It’s late anyways, we should all get going--” A clatter sounds through the call, and Sap is cursing. “Ah, shit!” 

George’s brows raise at the sudden outburst, “Sap, what the hell was that?” Dream asks, sounding as if he had turned away from his mic.

“Sorry, sorry, Patches knocked over my drink.” He can hear his friend moving things around, probably making sure his keyboard doesn’t get soaked.

Dream chuckles, and George’s heart sinks, “Sorry, I don’t know why she likes your room so much.”

_ Now he was jealous, great. _

“I’ll talk later, see you guys tomorrow. Good night.” and just like that he was leaving the voice chat without hesitation. He doesn’t know if either of them said anything, he was ripping the headphones off before he even left the call. Setting them down with a sharp smack against his desk, fingers gripping the hard plastic until his knuckles went white.

It wasn’t always this hard. There were days and weeks where he didn’t mind the lack of color. 

It was who he was and he was proud of himself for getting this far.

Rising out of his chair, he’s moping out of his room and to the bathroom to wash up. He immediately catches sight of himself in the tall mirror, and he gingerly steps closer. Long fingers curl against the basin of the sink and he squints at his reflection. He’s been told his hair is a rich, cool brown. It matched the hues in his eyes apparently, which seemed to him to be just a hair off of being pitch black. His skin wasn’t as pale as how he saw himself, people always commented on the pink undertones.

They’d all coo and ‘awh’ at the way he’d blush. The rosy pigment flushing across the apples of his cheeks and it’d spread down a slender throat and up to the tips of his ears. 

Lips purse, and they pale, “Whatever.” he grumbles, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His chest was so tight. He couldn’t really breathe. Maybe he should have told them what was on his mind, that not seeing that creeper and making such a mistake was embarrassing. He had read back the chat. They were all yelling at him saying he was about to walk into it, but George didn’t even see it--

Shame. That’s essentially what it all came down to. He was ashamed of himself over something he couldn’t even control.

Washing up, he dragged his feet back into his room, shoulders sagged forward as he crawled into bed so he could just go to sleep. Tucked under the warm covers, he’s about to drift to sleep when he hears his phone vibrating on his desk. Shaking his head, he curls the blanket tighter around himself, nose tucked against the fabric and eyes squeezed closed.

“Leave me alone, Dream.” he mumbles, knowing that it has to be him. He was incredibly stubborn, and his point is made as his cell vibrates again, and again, and  _ again _ . The fourth time he’s hurling himself off his bed, and with just the light from the screen guiding him he stumbles to the desk and answers.

“Dream!” George hisses. 

“George…” his voice sends the streamer reeling. It’s different than from when they’re recording. It’s deeper. Softer. “Are you okay?”

The room is plunged into darkness as the light from his phone blinks off, and carefully, George is shuffling back to climb into bed once more. “I said I was tired. I’m seriously fine.”

_ I’m lying. _

“I don’t believe you. You’re a hundred percent not okay.” 

_ Why do you have to be like this? _

“You don’t have to believe me,  _ Clay _ , I’m tired. I want to go to bed. Please.” His words are thick, his toned dragged down from the overwhelming weight of his own mind.

There’s a long pause, “Go to bed then, George, but I’m not going to leave you alone. Not when you’re clearly going through something. Put me on speaker and set me down, I’ll stay on the phone until I start hearing your cute snoring.” George scoffs at the idea, but he’s doing it. Setting his phone beside his head, and putting it on speaker just as Dream asked. 

“I don’t snore.” he argues weakly.

“You’re not denying you’re cute though, progress.” There’s rustling. Was Dream laying down as well?

“Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.” George feels the warmth in his cheeks, and his fingers lightly brush over it. He tries to imagine what pink looked like. Cotton candy. Flamingos. Pigs. Strawberry frosting. “Dream…”

“I thought you were sleeping, idiot.” his best friend’s voice is just above a whisper, and George feels his lips twitching into an easy smile.

“What’s your favorite color?” he’s never personally asked him before. It was always a topic that George steered far away from.

Dream seems confused by the question, “Green.” he says simply, and with a soft sigh, “Is this what it’s about, George?”

_ Yes _ .

“No, I was wondering, that’s all.” He couldn’t stop lying. “What kind of green?”

Dream hums into the receiver, the sound making tingles crawl across his skin, squirming against his bedding, “I suppose I like the way grass looks on a summer day, you know?” 

_ No, no he didn’t know.  _

He realizes his wording is a mistake, and pushes on “I mean, it’s vibrant and earthy. It always made me feel comfortable.” George nods, and Dream takes this as a shot to get more out of George, “C’mon, talk to me, George. I'm ready to beg if that’s what it takes.” 

“I didn’t see it…” George was on the verge of a total meltdown.

“Didn’t see what?” Dream urges, and George takes a staggering breath.

“The creeper, Dream. I didn’t see the stupid creeper!” and saying that aloud has George’s voice breaking, cracking as tears finally burst forth. There’s a sigh on the other end, and for whatever reason that makes it worse. He had been holding it in since the stream ended, and all the emotion was barreling out. “It blended in, Dream! I couldn’t...I couldn’t see it. They’re green, right? It was up against cobblestone and I didn’t see.” he babbled, and Dream let him cry it out a bit longer.

He wanted to help. He wanted to do something for him, but being thousands of miles away made that difficult. “Hey, I’m sorry.” Dream mumbles, “I’m sorry, I know things are tough, and had I known you were feeling down today I wouldn’t have teased you so much.” He didn’t mean to hurt him.

“It’s fine…” George whines, wiping at his now damp cheeks.

“It’s not fine. Listen. You’re coming to visit next week, right” he was hoping at least he could brighten his best friend’s spirits, “We’re finally going to meet. I’m going to make it the best time, alright? I literally will do whatever I can to make it up to you.” Dream sounded so desperate, “Stop crying, George…” he was basically begging him to, hearing George cry was the worst possible thing to Dream. 

George manages to sniffle back a sob, “Next week?” Was it really that soon? They had bought the tickets months ago, he couldn’t believe that it was actually coming up.

“Yes, next week you finally get to see this ugly mug.” Dream teases.

“Ugly, yeah.” Dark hues roll, lids irritated from his crying jag but he’s cracking a smile despite that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you think I’m  _ hot _ .” Dream teases, the tone lighter now that he got his friend to smile. He could hear it in the slight change in his voice.

“I’m hanging up.” the brunette complains, but they both know it’s an empty threat.

Dream is laughing, “I’ll stop talking now, alright? Sleep tight.”

George relaxes back into the pillow, head covered and as he allows himself to drift off the last thing he hears is Dream snoring softly. It was cute.


	2. Chapter 2

The next week passed by in an absolute blur for George. He went on with his usual business, which was the same routine everyday. He’d wake up, eat, stream, eat, chat with Sapnap and Dream, and by the time he was ready for bed he’d have Dream on speaker next to his head. It had become a nightly routine since his mini breakdown. They hadn’t talked much about it, but he was still feeling better, and when he woke up at three a.m he was the happiest he had felt in a long time.

Today was the day. Today was when he was finally going to hop on the plane to go to America. He was nervous. He truly felt like getting sick, but he pushed it down, it wasn’t a bad feeling. It was just-- How on Earth was this finally happening? It’s been years, and he’s never seen his best friends face. People around him didn’t understand why he would be friends with someone like that. Someone who had kept themselves secret, but George never felt that way. He never felt cheated. Yes, he got a little sad but Dream was genuine and kind, and George thought who he was as a person was greater than whatever face was hidden behind that mask.

However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. Oh, no, he was dying to see him. To hear him laugh in person. To see if he was really as tall as he claimed to be. Sapnap said he wasn’t but Dream insisted that he was a giant. George rests a hand against his cheek, willing the pesky warmth to go away, he didn’t need to look like a flustered mess when he hopped in the taxi.

By four, he was heading to the airport, his suitcase in the trunk and his carry on clutched to his chest. The sun had yet to rise, so the city was still quiet. He loved this time of day. The soft lighting was perfect, anything too bright made his head ache. The way the rain pattered against the street created a pretty effect, and he shifted to press his forehead against the window, just watching as it started to pour. Goodbye Brighton, hello Orlando.

Waiting at the terminal was a dull experience, and George was dozing off and on for a while, a hood pulled up over his head, not really wanting to be spotted or noticed by anyone. He didn’t mind interacting with people, but right now he was doing all he could just to stay in one piece. He didn’t need someone prying on top of that. By six thirty he was finally in his seat, and he was incredibly thankful that he was able to get a direct flight to Orlando. A twelve hour flight was bad enough without having to do lay over after lay over. Closing his eyes, he tries to sleep. Unfortunately it doesn’t come, and George is awake for the entire twelve hours.

By the time they were descending, his ears were ringing from the pressure being released. His eyes strained from the bright sun coming through the window. He had to close it, it was washing out his vision. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it or not but he was suddenly hot. He tugs at his collar, wondering if he should take his hoodie off now. How hot was it? Glancing up at the screen on the seat in front of him, his lips part in surprise, it was supposed to be a high of 90 today. It had just creeped into the 50’s back home, he’d need to peel the hoodie off before getting out.

It was a rocky landing but the seat belt light flashed and caught his attention. This was it. Dream and Sapnap were waiting for him. They were right there. They were so, so close. He had to calm himself down, his breathing becoming a bit quicker than what was deemed proper. Hyperventilating right now would only turn heads, and he didn’t need to explain to someone why he was freaking out.

With shaky hands, he grabs his carry on and stuffs the warm sweater into the bag before flinging it up onto his back. His fingers fuss with the front of his shirt, tugging lightly at the fabric, he wore green.

His mom had helped him pick out things to bring to Florida with him, and he had specifically asked her to find his green t-shirt. He wanted to wear it, he wasn’t sure why but it felt appropriate. 

Exiting the terminal his legs begin to tremble as he goes to the baggage claim. Where were they waiting? Outside? In the airport? He’d spot Sap from a mile awhile, but Dream could be next to him and he wouldn’t know it. That thought makes him anxious and he turns his head over one shoulder and then the other, no one was paying any mind to him. Swallowing he waits for his luggage, and hauls the big suitcase off the conveyor belt when comes crawling into view.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he turns it off airplane mode, and messages come flooding in. Most were from his family, wishing him a safe flight and to let them know when he gets there. Others were from friends who knew he was coming today, most teasing him about seeing Dream. Sapnap had texted an hour ago to say that they were heading to the airport. As he scrolls through the messages, he sends a few texts but his fingers come to a dead stop as a text pops up.

Swallowing, he clicks on the notification and nearly throws his phone across the damn airport. 

:)

That’s all it was and George immediately whirled around, eyes scanning the crowd. It had gotten busy in the last few minutes and there were so many people. He doesn’t see Sapnap. Frantic, his eyes dart from person to person, but everyone moving so fast he has to blink rapidly, the greys all blurring slightly. 

_ Don’t panic. Don’t panic. George, they’re here, it’s fine. _

Before he had time to completely spiral, he’s being hit by a truck, or at least that’s what he thinks when the wind is knocked from his lungs. Strong arms are secured around him, and his feet are off the ground. He’s spun around a total of three times, and with a loud yelp of surprise and a flail, he realizes immediately who it is. That laugh, “GEORGE! LETS GO! Oh my god, dude!” George swears in that moment his soul had left his body and he had ascended to Cloud 9. 

“Sapnap! Put me down!” He yells at him, but he’s grinning from ear to ear, “What is wrong with you!?” He’s placed on the ground, and he turns, and meets his friend’s beaming face. Seeing him like this was weird. 

_ Weird as hell. _ He knows he had argued with him multiple times that he wouldn’t hug him, but George throws his arms around his long time friend and clings to him. They’re nearly the same height so it’s comfortable as they embraced. He doesn’t want to let him go, but with the younger’s hand patting him firmly on the back he is being pushed back to arms length. “You know, I told you we were gonna hug.” Sapnap muses, and George rolls his eyes. He was just as much of a big teddy bear as George had imagined. He practically radiated that beagle energy.

“Oh, shut up.” he hums, his accent sounded thicker than normal, maybe because he was so far away from home and hearing other people around him speaking so differently was making it seem that way.

A clearing of someone's throat has George becoming rigid, and the look Sapnap has-- Oh that devilish glint in his eye, “Dream?” the smaller male breathes, and there’s tinkling laughter behind him. He’s too afraid to turn around. George gives Sapnap a pleading look, but the other is no help. He crosses his arms over his tank top and rocks back on his heels, clearly ready to see the show. 

“Hey, George.” Oh it’s absolutely, Dream but the Brit is frozen. This moment was years in the making. It was what he had dreamed about, but now he was stuck. His legs betraying him, his shoulders curling forward.

“George, it’s alright.” Dream urges, and with a hand being placed on his shoulder, he’s guided around.

His eyes stay locked stubbornly on his sneakers, though the worn pair of Nikes coming into view has him nearly whining. 

“Are you not going to look at me after you just flew over an entire ocean?” Dreams voice is better in person, George decides, “C’mon.” The tone is so playful, but there is a breathiness in it that has the elder shivering.

Tilting his head up, he’s first met with a strong jaw, and skin that looked like it might be a little tanner than his own. His nose is straight, sharp, with the slightest upturn. George expels a shaky breath as he takes in the light freckles across his cheeks, but it was when he caught those eyes.

Something was wrong. A pain in his head nearly has him doubling over, his vision swimming. He must have shown something in his face, because Sapnap has a hand on his shoulder from behind and Dream’s face pales, “George? Hey, are you alright?”

He wasn’t sure, squinting his eyes, he met his best friend’s line of sight again. This time his senses are flooded. The buzz in his brain is so loud that he can hear nothing but the dull roar of his own blood. Sparks begin to ignite in his vision. Through the greyscale he’s experiencing something new. 

Dreams' eyes become bright, and then dim, only glow again. Green? His head tilts down, and his shirt is flickering in the same manner. It’s like he was peering through a prism. The colors slowly fading in and out, streaking through the light. 

His hands come up to cover his mouth, tears immediately springing to his eyes. “What the hell…” 

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.” Dream begs, but in his disoriented state George is he can’t respond. He’s too busy staring up at the blonde in complete awe. The more he looked, the more vibrant and saturated the colors became. He can’t place them all, but from what he’s been told he can piece it together. There was a dusting of pink on Dream’s cheeks, and maybe a little bit of a red sunburn on the tip of his nose. Lips were parted, and it’s the same at the hues on his nose. Red. Maybe red would be George’s new favorite color.

“You’re blushing.” George manages. Before George can explain, the colors become too much. It’s an overload. His lids flicker dangerously before his eyes roll back and the whites show.

“Shit! George? Geor--”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated, tell me what you think. 
> 
> Happy reading!


End file.
